


Rise of the Emerald Queen (Sample Version)

by authorcmnuckols



Category: Original Work
Genre: Steampunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26299549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authorcmnuckols/pseuds/authorcmnuckols
Summary: A Sample Version of my novel, Rise of the Emerald Queen, slated for release in 2021. This version contains a sample of the early chapters of the book.Book Summary: "After the assassination of her father and an attempt on her life, Queen Ophiyra Lockwood is forced to flee her beloved home in Osteria as the Causterian War Machine, led by Grand Minister Horace Gridley, poises itself to strike. Escorted by Dawn Beckett, Captain of the Emerald Star, Ophiyra makes her way across the continent to find safe refuge from the oncoming storm. But will she ever return home? Will things ever go back to the way they were? Only time will tell."
Kudos: 2





	1. Part One: The Heir's Coronation

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Sample version of the novel, and only contains several early chapters. This version is neither final nor complete. The final version is subject to change before release.

The gleam of the morning sun shone through the palace window, illuminating Ophiyra’s bedroom. Specks of dust could be seen dancing in the glistening beam of light as the princess leaned on the windowsill and looked out onto the city, with its billowing clouds of smoke and beautiful view of the rising sun passing over the ocean, reflecting its light on the waves. As she watched the city awaken, an airship passed over the skyline, its fins rippling as they blew in the breeze. Ophiyra’s mother was always impressed with human innovation. It had been a fair amount of time since Queen Liara passed away, but watching the airships float by reminded Ophiyra of her years growing up at her mother’s side. She let out a content sigh as she pulled away from the window.

Ophiyra took a seat at the vanity, waiting for the stylist her father hired to help her prepare for the upcoming celebration. Today was the day that Ophiyra turned eighteen, and was to be formally crowned as the heir to the throne. Her father, King Alistair, had spared no expense on this momentous occasion, making the young princess all the more nervous.

It had been Alistair’s hope that marrying an elven woman and having a child would serve to form a bridge between humans and elves in Osteria, and while most people appreciated this measure, there were some circles that felt that he had gone too far. Elves had always been welcome in Osteria, ever since they sought refuge on the island some centuries ago during the Great War, but some people, unfortunately, believed that elves were second-class citizens, and that by tolerating their presence, Osteria had done enough for them.

As the stylist began his work, Ophiyra stared intently at her reflection. She knew how important this celebration was, but she couldn’t shake the nervous feeling she had. Her father had spent a lot of money, and there was likely to be a lot of press in attendance. This was by far the biggest event of her young life, and all eyes would be on her today, as she would be Osteria's first ever half-elven Princess. She could only hope that she would make her father proud.

Her thoughts were intruded by her stylist. “Okay Your Highness, it’s up to you. I can put your hair up in a bun, or let it flow down and braid it, what’s it going to be today?” Ophiyra wasn’t quite used to being addressed as Your Highness yet, so her response was slightly delayed. “Oh, umm” she pondered. While she had attended her share of parties and other events, none were as demanding as this. “I’m not sure, to be honest.” She looked back at him. “What do you think would work best?” The stylist rubbed the stubble on his chin, pondering for a moment. “With respect, Your Highness, I feel like it would look better down. How about a large single braid?” Ophiyra thought about it for a moment. “That sounds wonderful. Please, proceed.” The stylist smiled and nodded, and continued his work.

After what felt like hours, his work was done. Ophiyra looked at her reflection in the mirror to take in the sight of her newly done hair. It was twisted into two braids from the sides to the back, combining into a larger single braid, with a curtain of her brown hair under it. She was suitably impressed with the stylist’s work. “This looks wonderful, thank you. I very much appreciate your hard work. I’m sure my father paid you well, but take this as a token of my appreciation.” She handed him a ten-crown bill, a handsome tip for his effort, as he bowed and left.

After finishing her preparations, Ophiyra took one last look at the mirror. She was proud of the reflection staring back at her. Her flowing green dress with a gold-laced corset, an emerald pendant hanging from her neck, her hair in a well-woven braid with a perfect resting place for her crown. She smiled, feeling a bit more confident that she could make this celebration a success. It was nearly time for the Coronation to begin, so she glided out of her bedroom and towards the throne room.

At the door to the throne room, she could hear the throng of people inside, waiting for her to walk down the corridor. As she approached, the guard standing by the door gently raised his hand. He was a newer officer, judging by his badges, and he looked rather young, perhaps no more than a few years older than her. “Give it one moment, Your Highness, your father is seeing to a visitor.” “Oh, well then. I guess this gives me a moment to prepare. Thank you, Officer—” The guard nodded politely. “Glass. Oliver Glass.” Ophiyra nodded back. “Officer Glass. Thank you.”

Ophiyra took a deep breath and started pacing the hall. Suddenly, she heard her father shouting from the throne room. She couldn’t quite hear what he was saying, but within a few seconds, a gentleman came out through the doors. He was wearing a highly-decorated Causterian military uniform. What was someone from Causteria doing here, let alone someone who seemed to be a highly-ranked official? The man gave Ophiyra a disgusted sneer, then walked away. Another guard came out and whispered to Officer Glass, then went back in. Officer Glass turned to her. “Your Highness, it’s time. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Ophiyra took a moment to collect herself then approached the door. She nodded to Officer Glass, indicating that she was ready. Her pulse was racing, and she could feel a bit of sweat in her palms. She was nervous, but she was indeed as ready as she would ever be. The doors swung open as Officer Glass announced her entry. “May I introduce to you, Her Royal Highness, the soon-to-be-crowned Princess Ophiyra Lockwood!”

As Ophiyra walked down the corridor, she was met with applause and cheers. She couldn’t help but smile a bit as she made her way to the throne where her father now sat. She felt humbled by the admiration she was receiving, and it gave her an air of confidence. She could feel the tension floating away as she strode down the hall. As she approached, she knelt down in front of her father, ready to take the Heir’s Oath.

“My child, are you prepared to take the Oath?,” the King’s voice rang out, as the crowd fell silent. “I am,” Ophiyra replied, booming with confidence. Alistair was beaming with pride seeing his daughter’s confidence. “Very well, repeat after me. I, Ophiyra Lockwood”. Ophiyra repeated her father’s words. “I, Ophiyra Lockwood”. The King continued. “Vow as heir to the throne of Osteria”. “Vow as heir to the throne of Osteria”. King Alistair took a deep breath. “To rule with a fair and just hand, to value the lives and well-being of my people above all else, and to always act in the best interest of my people and kingdom.” Ophiyra took a breath as well. “To rule with a fair and just hand, to value the lives and well-being of my people above all else, and to always act in the best interest of my people and kingdom.”

Alistair turned to his left side, where an ornate crown sat, with a gleaming sapphire lodged in its center. He lifted the crown and ceremoniously placed it on Ophiyra’s head. It was an almost perfect fit. Alistair tapped the tip of the crown with his scepter. “Then by my right as king of Osteria, I hereby crown you Princess Ophiyra Lockwood, heir to the throne.” The crowd could no longer contain their excitement, and burst out in cheers. Ophiyra turned and waved to the excited throng, her face beaming with pride. The Coronation was a success, and all that remained was the after-party.


	2. Part Two: The After-Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Two of the Sample Version. The after-party for Ophiyra's coronation as Princess.

The after-party was a jovial affair, but Ophiyra couldn’t help but feel that something was off. Her father was acting very unlike himself. He wouldn’t tell her what had happened with the Causterian gentleman, only saying that it “was a matter of state. Nothing for you to worry about today of all days.” Ophiyra had spent enough time observing her father during diplomatic affairs, it wasn’t like she wouldn’t understand. But if her father wasn’t going to say anything, perhaps Commander Teite Maren, Captain of the Royal Guard, would? It certainly didn’t hurt to ask.

Ophiyra found the commander with a few guards, trying to relax as much as someone in her position could. Teite was a tall woman, at nearly six feet tall, with dark skin and curly black hair. As always, she wore her guard uniform, which was highly decorated courtesy of the many badges and honorifics she’d earned. She was only in her early 30’s, but she commanded respect and had proved herself over the years. She was also among Ophiyra’s closest friends and confidantes.

Ophiyra approached the Commander’s group. The commander turned to her, and grinned proudly. “Your Highness, congratulations! To what do we owe the honor?” “Commander, might I have a word with you?” Teite’s smile faded. The look on her face indicated that she knew what Ophiyra was going to ask. “Certainly, Your Highness. Guards, might we have a moment?” The other guards saluted and walked away.

“Commander, what happened earlier? Before the ceremony? My father won’t tell me.” Teite let out a deep sigh. “And I suppose you won’t buy the excuse that it isn’t something you should worry about on your Crowning Day?” “Commander, should a good leader not always worry about the welfare of their nation?” Teite couldn’t help but chuckle. “Cheeky, you are. Fine. The gentleman you, I presume, saw storming out of the throne room was a Causterian general. General Pickart was his name, he was delivering a request to your father. Apparently, Grand Minister Gridley has requested that we—” Her voiced trailed off, and she lowered her head. “He has requested that your father endorse him for reelection.”

Ophiyra’s brow furrowed. Causterian law forbade any political candidate from seeking endorsements from outside the country, or so Ophiyra thought. It was hard to tell anymore, since Grand Minister Horace Gridley took power five years ago. “That is unusual, yes. But why is he being so stubborn about telling me?” Teite put her hand behind her neck and shrugged. “He just…he doesn’t want you to worry about it on your big day. Given how the Grand Minister is.” 

This was a good point. There were concerns about Causteria’s treatment of its people, especially its minority populations. Osteria had welcomed several groups of refugees, all bringing terrible stories. Anyone who opposed the Grand Minister was seen as a threat, as was anyone that wasn’t “pure” Angsterian. He had yet to do anything drastic, mostly because of the House of Ministers, but it was only a matter of time. There was no telling how far he’d go if given a chance. King Alistair would never allow Osteria to align itself with such a heinous man.

Ophiyra tried to continue to enjoy herself, talking with guests and partaking in the festivities. But she was still concerned. Grand Minister Gridley wasn’t likely to take “no” for an answer, and he had a brutish way of getting what he wanted. Even outside of Causteria’s borders, this was a well-known fact. If anything, it seemed like people outside the country knew better than those inside of it, thanks to the Grand Minister’s propaganda campaigns. She felt the need to talk to her father about the situation.

King Alistair had retreated to a booth overlooking the dining hall, so she approached and sat down in the seat next to his. This booth provided a good view of the dining hall and the stage at its rear. Alistair turned to Ophiyra and smiled. “I’m proud of you, you know? It’s finally official. The first half-elven Crown Princess of Osteria. You’ve made history today, love.” Ophiyra couldn’t help but feel a bit excited. Today would go down in history, for sure. “Thank you, father. I certainly hope I can continue to make you proud. But, might I ask you something?”

Alistair sighed. “Ophiyra, I know you’re concerned, but that can wait. Today is yours to enj—” “I know what happened, father. With General Pickart.” Alistair leaned forward, putting a clenched fist to his lips. “Dammit Teite.” The king rested his brow between his fingers and sighed. “Ophiyra, don’t concern yourself with that. I’m not going to allow the Grand Minister to bully us. He has no power here, and under no circumstances will I allow Osteria to assist his regime. They won’t hurt you or anyone else. Not while I draw breath.”

Ophiyra paused for a moment. “I don’t doubt you, father. But I highly doubt that Grand Minister Gridley is going to stand by and let us reject him in such a manner.” Alistair sighed and leaned forward, with his arms resting on his knees, looking at her intently. “Ophiyra, don’t concern yourself with it. That’s a problem for another day. For now, enjoy the festivities.” Ophiyra wasn’t fully convinced, but she decided not to press the issue further.

Alistair leaned over the rail. He seemed to notice something in the crowd. “Ah. That ought to help take your mind off of matters. It seems your old friend Clarence is looking for you.” Ophiyra leaned over as well. Clarence had been a friend of hers since she was a child, and was always in attendance at royal parties. His father was the owner of Hedgecock Clock-makers, a well-known Osterian clock-making company. Alistair chuckled and patted Ophiyra on the back. “You know love, he asked me earlier if I’d give him my blessing to ask for your hand. I think he means to confess his love to you or something of the sort.”

Ophiyra choked on air. “Sweet Amara, bless his heart. Does he not—” Alistair raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t tell him. I just told him he was free to ask you.” Ophiyra pinched her brow. “I’ll go break it to him.” Alistair leaned back in his seat, laughing. “Go easy on the poor boy.”

Ophiyra slipped out of the booth and back down to the floor. Music was beginning to play, and the party-goers began dancing. Ophiyra had always danced with Clarence at these events, as she considered him to be a close friend. Not a lover, nor was she inclined to change that, but nonetheless a close friend she enjoyed spending time with. Clarence walked over to her. “Your Highness! I do love saying that. Anyway Ophiyra, might I have this dance?” He held out his hand.

“Certainly, Clarence,” Ophiyra replied as she took his hand. As they moved out to the floor and began to dance, Clarence looked at her, eyes darting nervously back and forth. “So. Ophiyra. There was something I was hoping to talk to you about.” They took a step, as Ophiyra raised an eyebrow. “Of course, Clarence, what is it?” Clarence cleared his throat. Ophiyra could feel a bit of sweat in his hands. “Right. So. I feel that we’ve built quite a bond. We’ve known each other since we were young, and well. I do enjoy spending time with you. What I mean to say is, I think I—”

He stuttered, having trouble saying the words. “Ophiyra, I think I love you. I was hoping that perhaps, you might feel the same way?” Ophiyra bit her lip and winced. “Clarence. I’m flattered, truly. And of course, I think of you as one of my closest friends. But there’s something I hadn’t told you yet. I’ve come to realize that…I prefer the company of women.” Clarence’s lips pressed together. “Oh. I do apologize, Ophiyra, I didn’t—” Ophiyra patted his shoulder as they kept dancing. “It’s okay, Clarence. But of course, we can still be friends, I hope?” Clarence smiled. “I would be honored.”

They were able to finish their dance, and Clarence seemed to take the rejection well. After their dance was done, Ophiyra went back up to see her father. Alistair gave her a knowing glance. “How’d the poor thing take it?” Ophiyra shrugged. “Surprisingly well. I do hope he finds someone though. He does deserve that much.” Alistair chuckled slightly as he nodded his head. “Good. There are plenty of fish in the sea, he’s got to realize that sooner or later. But at this point I do believe it’s time to retire for the night. Get some rest love, you’re going to need it for tomorrow.”


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Three of the Sample

It was the first day of the new year, and the day of Causteria’s Grand Minister inauguration. The newly-reelected Grand Minister Gridley was to hold a speech. Alistair and Ophiyra sat with Teite and the Circle, waiting by the radio to hear what he was going to say. They knew it would be terrible, but they didn’t want to be caught unawares, and since it was being broadcast to nearby countries, they would have no issue hearing it.

The radio static cut to a voice. “Hello, Causteria, and our listeners abroad! This is Drew Norris with the Causteria State Radio. We’re about to go live to the Grand Minister’s inaugural address. He has already been sworn in, and will address his nation in just a moment.” There was a brief pause. “And it seems we’re ready folks! Here he is, Causteria’s Grand Minister, Horace Gridley!”

There was a clicking noise as the audio source was switched over. “Fellow Causterians, I greet you! Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart, for proving to the world that we can make this country live up to its potential. As I have for the past five years, I will continue to serve you faithfully.” Ophiyra almost threw up a bit in her mouth. That lying bastard.

“Now, as I’m sure most of you are aware, there was an attack last week.” Everyone in the room was shocked. News of this, unsurprisingly, did not reach Osteria. The address continued. “It has come to my attention that the House of Ministers was set ablaze. And the culprit was apparently a violent radical who opposed the True Patriots League, and the compromise we made in the wake of the election. Let me say this. I will not tolerate this sort of radical behavior. Anyone who stands in the way of our great nation’s rise to glory shall be dealt with, swiftly and with no mercy. This nation must be purged of these violent radicals by any means necessary. To this end, the House of Ministers has overwhelmingly voted to invoke the Emergency Powers Act. As of now, Causteria is under Martial Law.”

Everyone looked around the room at one another. The Emergency Powers Act was a bill passed some time ago under a previous Grand Minister in Causteria. It allowed the Grand Minister to, in the wake of a dire emergency or existential threat to the safety of the nation, declare Martial Law and disband the House of Ministers that otherwise kept him in check. More pressingly, it suspended rights normally granted by Causteria’s constitution. If the House of Ministers had voted to invoke it, that meant that Causteria was now under Martial Law with Gridley at the helm. This did not bode well for the common folk of Causteria, nor did it bode well for neighboring nations.

The Grand Minister went on. “It pains me that we have been pushed to this point. But it is clear that we need to preserve the safety of the Causterian people. No person, no nation shall stand in our way. It is clear to me that those that do not stand with Causteria stand against it. And all those who stand against Causteria, be they man or country, must be eradicated. The time is nigh. Those outside our borders must make their choice. And make the right one. For the Glory of Causteria!” The crowd cheered and chanted as the radio cut back to the station. “And we’re back. You can find out more about last night’s attack and the terrorists responsible for it in today’s edition of the Causterian State Newspaper. In the meantime, please enjoy—” Alistair cut the radio off. They’d all heard enough.

Alistair turned to Ophiyra with a grim look. “Love, it’s time. We cannot remain silent. I’m going to have the papers announce a speech next week, would you like to help me write it?” Ophiyra nodded. “Certainly, father.”

A week had passed since Grand Minister Gridley’s inauguration and invocation of the Emergency Powers Act. Per his promise, Alistair had written a speech, with Ophiyra’s help, and was ready to give his address. He had a microphone set up, wired to a pair of brass speakers. He stood on the platform as people gathered. Several members of the local press sat in front. The king looked solemnly at the crowd as they settled in, ready to hear what the king was planning to say.

“My beloved Osterians. As you know, our neighbor, Causteria, has fallen under Martial Law, and Grand Minister Gridley has consolidated complete and total power. I have come to realize that Osteria can stay silent no more. The actions taken by the Grand Minister threaten not only his own people, but threaten any nation that rightly opposes his iron-fisted regime. As a servant to my people, as a person who understands that a nation’s people must come before a select few, I am horrified. I cannot, and will not, approve of this. I stand firmly against Grand Minister Horace Gridley! His ignorant, hateful brand of nationalism is a cancer upon this world, and I will treat it as such! Osteria will not bow!” The crowd applauded. It was a short speech, to be sure, but Alistair made his point clear. Ophiyra looked out into the crowd, and saw a lone figure slink away from the crowd. She went to tell Teite, but before she could, the figure was gone.

Later that evening, King Alistair held a dinner. Several high-ranking officials were in attendance, as was the Circle of Councilors. It had a more grim atmosphere than Ophiyra’s Coronation dinner, for obvious reasons. Causteria was the talk of the table, so to speak. Even without Alistair’s public denouncement, it was likely that Grand Minister Gridley was going to have his sights set on Osteria. Both nations were predominantly Angverian, and Osteria sat in the ocean only a short distance from the neighboring shoreline. In the Grand Minister’s eyes, both nations had to stand in unison for his repugnant idea of “Angverian Supremacy” to appear legitimate. The Circle discussed plans moving forward. How to talk to other nations, which nations to talk to, how to prepare to defend the island if Causteria decided to attack. It was a stressful affair, and Ophiyra could barely eat.

After a short while, Alistair retreated to his alcove above the dining hall. It was an ideal spot to watch the stage in the back of the hall during performances, and gave a good view of the hall so that he could see the entire room. Ophiyra followed him up. As they sat down in their seats, Alistair looked at his daughter. “Are you okay, love? I know this is quite unexpected.” “It’s terrifying, father. But it’s my duty. I’ll be okay.” Alistair smiled. “Good. I’m so proud of you, love. You’ve been so brave. You’re just becoming an adult, and yet you’ve handled this situation better than anyone could expect. I know you’ll do your duty just fine.” “Thank you, father. I won’t let you do—”

Ophiyra was interrupted by an explosion, coming from under her. She quickly put up a shield as the booth fell to the ground. There were screams as more explosions boomed through the dining hall. Someone had placed explosives. But who? And how were they being set off? As Ophiyra and Alistair staggered to their feet, they got the answer. The figure that Ophiyra had seen earlier approached. A gentleman wearing a cloak. He had a small detonator in his hand. “Shoulda known the little brat was a mage. Fine then.” The assailant pulled out a pistol as Ophiyra launched a fireball. The telltale bang of the gun rang out just as her fireball hit its mark. A second gunshot, this time from another source, pierced the air as a bullet struck the burning assailant. He fell to the ground with a thud.

Ophiyra breathed a sigh of relief, before turning to see what had happened. The assassin didn’t miss. Ophiyra just wasn’t the target. Alistair lay on the ground in a pool of blood, with a bullet wound in his neck. Teite ran to the king’s side and leaned down. Ophiyra started to try a healing spell. With tears in her eyes, she realized it wasn’t working. “Come on father, I can’t lose you! Father, please! Just hang in there!” Ophyira put all of her energy into her spell. She could feel the energy burning her hands from the inside out. But in spite of all of her efforts, the King still lay motionless.

Teite reached over to her and held her hand down. “Your Highness, it’s—it’s over…he’s gone.” The Dining Hall was in flames, and King Alistair Lockwood was dead. The tears stopped, replaced by numbness. Teite helped Ophiyra to her feet, although walking felt like a monumental task in and of itself. The shock was indescribable. Through tunneled vision, Ophiyra could see that other people lay dead as well. And the Commander looked like she’d been through hell and back. More guards rushed in to help Ophiyra and the Commander out of the burning room. Mercifully, the flames were able to be contained to the Dining Hall, and the rest of the palace remained intact.

The cloaked assassin’s body was dragged out of the flames, and Teite ripped the cloak off. Under it was a pendant depicting a Causterian Cross, the symbol of Gridley’s party, the True Patriots League. Also, there was a small crystal lodged in his chest, but it was fractured, meaning it would be impossible to discern the spell it once held. Teite looked over to Ophiyra. “Causterian. Dammit!” Teite threw the pendant down and pounded her fist into the assassin’s body. She turned to Officer Glass. “Get this bastard out of my sight. Burn the corpse and dump it in the fucking sea. We have all the evidence we need.” Officer Glass bowed. “Of course, Commander.” As Officer Glass had the body taken away, Teite turned to Ophiyra, eyes red. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I’ve failed you. We should have been more prepared, I don’t even know how he—” Ophiyra stopped her, speaking through the shock, barely above a whisper. “It’s not your fault.”

If anything, Ophiyra felt like it was her fault. Would this have happened if she’d mentioned seeing the man who would turn out to be her father’s assassin after the speech? Would there have been more security? Would that security have been able to stop this from happening? Those questions would haunt Ophiyra for the rest of her life, she was sure. The answers were irrelevant though, all that mattered was that her father was dead. Nothing could change that now.


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Four of the Sample: Six Years Later

Six years passed. Rather than attack Osteria, Causteria rallied their only ally, Hakynhos, and launched an attack on their neighbor, Gusenland and the Dutchy of Albachia, Gusenland’s protectorate. During the ensuing chaos, Tricia and Toredoso decided to attack Causteria in self-defense, knowing they were likely to be next. This chaos had not settled. Furthermore, Grand Minister Gridley used the ongoing conflict to justify putting off elections indefinitely. The nation was still under Martial Law, so there was little anyone could do to stop him.

Ophiyra woke up on the morning of her twenty-fourth birthday. The past six years had not been kind to her. She was constantly plagued by nightmares, centered around that fateful day six years prior, when her father was murdered. That day had left her emotionally scarred, but she tried her best to stay strong. She could manage most days, but others, she would be forced to retire early as she was flooded by memories of her father’s death.

In spite of her young age and sudden rise to the throne, Ophiyra had gained wide-spread approval among her people. She had decided to focus on helping improve the welfare of her citizens, as well as the refugees coming in from Causteria. The idea to use airships as makeshift shelters proved efficient, as even a single ship could house a few hundred people in a pinch. Osteria had always had a welcoming culture, and several private citizens also agreed to help. The community had rallied together, and it was thriving.

While Ophiyra had managed to rally her people and maintain her status as a beloved leader, there were still small pockets of people who disliked her due to her elven heritage. While they were small and didn’t pose much of a threat, they had united into a single coherent group: Osteria First. An ironic name, for such a group. They had occasionally staged a small protest or two in Ironport, but were usually run out of town.

As today was her birthday, Ophiyra was not holding Council, and began to prepare for the ball that would be held later that evening. She insisted that the expenses of the ball be at her personal expense, and at hers alone. She also decided to help with the preparations, making sure everything was ready. By the time it was ready to begin, she was exhausted, but eager to begin.

Unlike in past years, her old friend Clarence would not be in attendance. He had begun working for his father’s business, and had been working on establishing a new location overseas, in Brassington. He still sent her telegrams, and had sent one wishing her a happy birthday, but he was unable to return to Osteria for the occasion. He’d sent her a pocket-watch from his father’s company, one of their more expensive pieces. It had a gold plating with a few small emeralds lining the circumference.

As the ball started, Ophiyra went up to the alcove above the Dining Hall. She didn’t feel like dancing, and opted to watch the others. It was almost hypnotic, watching everyone dancing to the rhythm. A live band had been offered to play, and they were incredibly talented. Gifts were placed on a table near the food, which Ophiyra would open later.

After a couple of hours, Teite came up to check on her. “Your Majesty, how are you feeling?” Ophiyra leaned forward, and turned to Teite, eyes heavy. “Tired, Commander. I barely slept last night. More nightmares.” Teite curled her lip and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I only wish I could help. I brought you a plate of hors d’oeuvres though. At least get some food in your system.” Ophiyra took the plate. “Thank you, Commander.”

Ophiyra finished off the food and set the plate down as she continued to watch the crowd. As she did, she felt a presence behind her. She panicked and put up a shield, and not a moment too soon. The shield reflected a gunshot aimed at the back of her head. She turned to see her assailant. The bullet had ricocheted off her shield into the attacker’s neck, and she only turned in time to see them fall to their knees and plop over. She heard frantic footsteps as Teite ran up. “Are you all right, Your Majesty?” Ophiyra stuttered. “Y-yeah, I think? I—I wasn’t shot at least?” Teite checked the assailant’s pulse. After a few seconds, she confirmed he was definitely dead. Not that he was likely to survive a bullet bouncing into his neck, but better safe than sorry.

Teite reached into his coat. As did the assassin that killed her father, he had a Causterian Cross pendant. What was even more disturbing, however, was that he also wore a patch. An Osteria First patch. And in his pocket was a letter, with a Causterian Cross printed on it. It wasn’t signed, but merely gave an order…to kill Ophiyra at the ball. Grand Minister Gridley was likely the one who issued the order, but had enough sense to not sign it. All the same, this meant that Gridley was assisting Osteria First, and even giving them instructions.

Ophiyra clenched her fist and pressed it to her mouth. “What are we going to do, Commander?” Teite looked at the ground, sighing deeply. She looked back up at the ceiling, still processing what was going on, before looking back at her. “Your Majesty, this is a serious problem. I’ll secure the area and get the guests out. We’ll discuss our options afterwards.”

After the Dining Hall was emptied and the area was secure, Ophiyra sat down with Teite and the Council. Causteria, in spite of being at war with four other nations, had manipulated a terrorist group to get them to assassinate Ophiyra. They were likely intending to follow up with a declaration of war.

The debate raged for hours. No one could decide exactly how to respond. As before, declaring war was out of the question. Even with allies, Ophiyra didn’t want to risk fighting. But they agreed to get the nation’s army into a defensive position, knowing that Causteria was likely going to strike soon. There was also the matter of deciding how to approach Causteria, and how to deal with the now emboldened Osteria First movement. If they made it obvious that Ophiyra wasn’t dead, the Grand Minister was likely to try again, and claiming she was dead would all but guarantee an attack, as Causteria would assume Osteria was weakened. This put them in an awkward position.

Teite was clearly lost in thought. She had been partaking in the discussion, but for the past few minutes, she seemed distant. Like she was remembering something. She suddenly jumped up and pulled Ophiyra to the side, out of earshot of the Council. “Your Majesty. I…I have a suggestion. And I know you won’t like it.”

Ophiyra furrowed her brow. That sounded at least mildly disconcerting. “What is it, Commander?” Teite pressed her lips together and stared at her intently. “You can’t stay here. Either they’ll realize you’re alive and kill you, or think you’re dead and attack. If they do, they’ll find and kill you then. The only option is for you to flee.” Ophiyra stared at her commander. “No, commander. I can’t leave my people behind. If Causteria attacks, they’ll be slaughtered—” Teite put her hand on Ophiyra’s shoulder and clamped it. “As will you, and my job is to make damn sure that doesn’t happen. Besides, we can stall them. I have a plan.”

If Teite had a plan, Ophiyra decided she might as well hear it. “Very well, what’s your plan?” Teite let go of Ophiyra’s shoulder and took a deep breath. “We put up a smokescreen. We tell the nation you’ve been ‘indisposed’ and I’ll temporarily be serving as Lord Regent in your stead. The Grand Minister will hopefully think you’re alive, but in hiding, or that we're covering up your death. It would take some time to figure out what's going on, and in that time, I can get you out of here.”

Ophiyra crossed her arms and tilted her head. “How, Commander? How do you propose to do that?” Teite scratched the back of her head and sighed solemnly. “I have an old friend, one who owes me a favor. It’s a long story, but I can assure you she can’t refuse. I’ve had Officer Sherridan in Brassington for some time working with the Exarch, and I’ve been tracking this…friend. She should be arriving in the city within a couple of days, if my intelligence is correct. I’m going to call in that favor, and get her to escort you out.”

This only raised more questions. “Can we trust this friend of yours? Can we be assured she won’t turn me over or be an assassin? Who is she?” “I can assure you because the Causterians would want her dead just as much as they do you. As I said, I’ve kept tabs on her over the years. There’s only one catch.” Ophiyra narrowed her eyes. “What?” “She is, by trade, a smuggler.”

A smuggler? Teite was honestly suggesting a smuggler escort her out of the country? This had to be the most ridiculous plan she’d ever heard. “Commander, are you mad?! A smuggler? You would ask me to trust a smuggler to get me out of this country?” “If there were any other option, I would take it, Your Majesty. But look at the position we’re in. This woman may operate outside the law, but I’ve seen her work. She operates with intent to help people. I wouldn’t entrust your safety to some common brigand who showed no care for people. At this point, I honestly think she’s our best hope. She could be here and have you out in a matter of days, well before the Causterians could figure out what was going on.”

Ophiyra had to stop and think. This was ridiculous. But even more ridiculous was the fact that Teite was making good points. This smokescreen idea could work, and with any luck, they could also buy some time to evacuate. She came up with an idea. “If you truly trust this woman, Commander Maren—” “I do, Your Majesty.” “Then I’ll agree to go with her. On one condition.” Teite stared at her intently. “What is it, Your Majesty?” “You use the time before Causteria attacks to evacuate the people, as many as you can.” Teite nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty, I’m way ahead of you. We’ll begin to evacuate the most vulnerable after you’ve left, but we must do it quietly, or the Causterians will realize we’re up to something.”

Teite and Ophiyra returned to the table to inform the Council of the plan. Of course, they had the same questions. Who was this mysterious woman? How did Teite know her, and know she could be trusted? And how was Teite able to watch this woman? Teite did provide some answers. They’d met before she became Commander of the Guard, and Teite had used her post to gather intel, using diplomats and other officials already in place. This smuggler routinely visited Brassington after jobs, and last she was seen, she was heading that way. First Officer Sherridan was already there, hoping to speak with the Exarch about establishing an embassy. Teite was going to send him a telegram and have him wait and intercept this smuggler when she showed up.

By the time the discussion was done, Ophiyra still had questions, but felt that Teite was right. It had somehow become the safest way to leave the city under the escort of a smuggler. Teite didn’t say much about her, but did say her name: Dawn Beckett, Captain of the Emerald Star.


	5. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Five of the Sample: Dawn's introduction

The North Pole Inn was bustling with activity. It was the most popular pub and inn in Brassington’s downtown quarter, and even people from the more affluent parts of the city visited it occasionally. And some recent goings-on had called a lot of attention to the place. Rossi, the owner, certainly didn’t mind the extra business, and he was more than happy to help his staff with the extra work-load. Through the hustle and bustle, he saw a familiar face walk through the front door with her crew.

“Ha! There she is, the daring Captain Dawn Beckett herself! How’ve ya been kiddo?” Dawn, a young half-elf wearing a red leather coat over a white dress-shirt with a black vest approached the bar. “Rossi! How ya doin’ old man? Looks like they’re keeping you on your toes, at least.” Rossi tipped the mug he was washing at her. “You know it! I dunno if you heard, but Sharla stopped by.” “Well shit, I missed her, again.” Rossi chuckled. “Gotta love that timing, sorry about that kiddo. So, what brings you here this time?” Dawn shrugged. “The usual. Just finished up a job, figured we oughta stop by.”

By this point, Dawn’s crew had settled in at the bar as well. Rossi started to pour their drinks. “Oh yeah, definitely. Fun job, I hope?” Dawn pinched her brow, as the crew started laughing. “I never thought smuggling a gods-forsaken moose from some rich guy’s backyard to a nature reserve would be…look no one was severely injured, okay? I count that as a win.” “’Severely’ injured, huh? Well, a win’s a win, right?” “Right. Well, you know me Rossi, I’ll have my usual as well.”

Dawn’s drink was interrupted by a subtle nudge, coming from her First Mate, Taiomi. “Cap, there’s a guy by the back door looking at you.” “Is there now?” Dawn subtly looked towards the door, and sure enough, there was a gentleman looking directly at her. Judging by the attire, he was poorly attempting to travel incognito. No one in Brassington would be walking around the downtown quarter in a fancy Osterian coat. And good gods, the bowler hat was as subtle as a sledgehammer. It was safe to assume this man was an agent, and one from Osteria, going by the coat.

The man gestured towards the door and stepped out. If he really was from Osteria, then odds are, Dawn knew exactly why he was there. After all this time. But why now? She set her drink down and subtly made for the door. Taiomi tried to grab her. “Captain, it’s gotta be a trap!” “Could be, Tai, but if it’s what I think it is, I’ll manage. Trust me.”

As she stepped outside, Dawn saw the gentleman standing in the alley, smoking a pipe. “You’re pretty unpredictable, you know. Not an easy woman to track.” Dawn sighed and crossed her arms. “And yet, here you are. To what do I owe the pleasure? Love the coat by the way.” The gentleman smiled awkwardly. “Is it that obvious? Perhaps to you, at least.” Dawn cocked an eyebrow. “Right. So, I suppose Officer Maren sent you? Or, Commander Maren now, isn’t it?” “Indeed. She told me to tell you it’s time. She’s calling in her favor.”

Dawn sighed. “Wonderful. And I suppose it’s something you’re not gonna tell me up front, is it?” “Not here, no. You’re to travel to Ironport and I shall accompany you. I’ll explain on the way.” Dawn rolled her eyes. “Gotta love the ol’ cloak and dagger, eh? Fine, I’ll play along. If Maren’s calling that favor in, I suppose it’s big. Let me get my crew.”

Dawn went back inside, and sat back down at the bar. They all seemed concerned. Taiomi broke the silence. “Captain, is everything okay?” “Oh yeah, everything’s fine. Here’s the deal.” She motioned for the crew to lean in. She hadn’t been told what was going on, but she felt like it wasn’t something she should be advertising to the entire bar. “I owe an old friend a favor. You guys know about the mark. Well she’s called it in, and I’m about ready to get rid of this thing once and for all. I can’t promise she’ll pay you guys, so this could be pro bono. I won’t force anyone to tag along, but—” Taiomi interrupted. “Captain, you know we’ve got your back. Besides, all our stuff’s on the ship.” Dawn couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “Right. Well, I appreciate you guys. C’mon, let’s see what this stuffy bastard is getting us into, shall we?”

After finishing their drinks, Dawn and her crew boarded their ship, The Emerald Star, with the Osterian gentleman in tow. After setting the ship in motion and setting course for Ironport, Dawn brought her new passenger to address the crew. “Alright, we’re heading towards Osteria. Now, I think my crew is owed an explanation.”

The gentleman paused for a moment. “Right. Right. So, my name is Clem Sheridan, First Officer of Her Majesty Ophiyra Lockwood’s Royal Guard.” Dawn almost scoffed. This guy was the First Officer? He seemed more suited as a bureaucrat than a guardsman. “Well it’s about time we learned your name, Clem, but let’s get to it.”

Clem propped himself up on his toes for a moment before standing flat again. “Right, I was sent by Commander Teite Maren to retrieve your captain, because through a bizarre situation that was not fully explained, Miss Beckett is indebted to her, and the commander now requires her assistance. She has a job for you, and it’s quite a task.” Dawn was getting slightly impatient. “Okay Clem, hit me. What’s the job?” Clem cleared his throat. “Right. The job…is to smuggle the Queen out of Osteria.”

Dawn had to pause for a second. She blinked at him for a moment and scoffed. “Clem…I don’t think I heard that correctly, because I swear to Amara it sounds like you just said you want us to smuggle the QUEEN out of Osteria?” “You heard correct, Captain. The Queen herself.” The crew’s expressions indicated their surprise, but they remained silent. At this point, Clem had a fair bit of explaining to do.

Clem cleared his throat. “Now mind you, the Queen is aware, and has agreed. You are not kidnapping an unwilling party.” Dawn stared him down, crossing her arms. “I would certainly hope not. I presume Commander Maren knows that’s not the kind of thing I’d be up for.” “Of course. But you see—” Clem sighed and looked at Dawn. He seemed concerned. “I need you to stay silent about this.” Dawn raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “Sure. Tell me, Clem.” “An assassination attempt was made on the Queen last night. I received the order at two o’clock this morning to find you when you arrived in Brassington. The Commander has a plan, she said she’d tell you more about it personally once you arrived.”

Dawn crossed her arms and sighed. “And I owe her a favor.” Clem tilted his head. “Quite right. She said you weren’t in a position to refuse the offer.” Dawn clutched her shoulder. She could almost feel the mark burning her. “Yeah, not really something I can turn down, no. So yeah, obviously I’m in. But what about my crew?” Clem nodded, with unnerving enthusiasm. “Yes, of course! Commander Maren has secured one-hundred thousand crowns for this mission. You may split that however you see fit.” Dawn nodded. “A hundred grand, eh? Not bad, not bad at all. What do you say, guys?” The rest of the crew piped up in agreement. Dawn turned back to Clem. “Alright Clem, we’re in.”


	6. Part Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Six of the Sample: Ophiyra's escape

Ophiyra stared out the window. The rain was coming down in sheets, and the dim light in the palace made for a gloomy sight. Fitting, as this was the night she would be leaving her beloved home, with no idea of when she might return. She was still unsure of being escorted out of her homeland by a common smuggler, but if Teite trusted this woman, she saw no reason not to. But how long would she be gone? Would she ever return? These questions haunted her. In what seemed like mere moments she went from a happy young princess to a queen whose father was brutally murdered, with a fascist regime pounding at her door.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by Teite. “Here, you’ll need this cloak. And this mask. My friend knows to use a back entrance, so you won’t be seen leaving the palace.” Ophiyra took the cloak and mask. The mask was cloth, fitted to conceal the bottom half of her face. The cloak had a hood, so hopefully that in addition to the murky, rainy weather would conceal her identity. But what back entrance was Teite referring to? She opened her mouth to ask as a thunk rang out.

Teite didn’t seem phased. “That’s probably her. Before you ask, there’s a hidden path under the castle. Hasn’t been used in centuries. I intended to tell you about it, but never got the chance. It’s not something we expected to have need of. But it’s a good thing we knew about it.” As she finished, a figure, soaking wet, walked into the room.

Dawn removed her hood. “Whose bright idea was that crystal puzzle?” Teite rolled her eyes. Ophiyra stood to meet her escort. Dawn had a faint scar that split her right eyebrow, and she had long black hair tied back into a fluffy ponytail. Most notably, like Ophiyra, Dawn was a half-elf. Of which group of elves wasn’t clear, but her pointed ears gave it away. This helped Ophiyra feel more comfortable trusting Dawn.

Ophiyra stepped forward, with her arms behind her back. “So, you’re the woman that’s escorting me?” “That I am. Dawn Beckett, captain of The Emerald Star, at your service.” Dawn did an overly-dramatic bow. She seemed to be teasing a bit, but not in a malicious manner. It seemed Dawn had a sense of humor.

Commander Maren approached her. “Stay safe, Your Majesty. I’m sure I’ll see you again.” Ophiyra began to tear up as she hugged her guardian. “Thank you, Commander. Please, take care of yourself.” “I’ll try, Your Majesty, but my duty is to you, and to the people of Osteria. I won’t leave until the evacuation is complete. Now go.”

Ophiyra and Dawn made their way into a nearby study. Dawn started fidgeting with the books. “Shit, which one was—oh there it is!” As she pulled an old copy of “Osteria, A History ca 1410” forward, the bookshelf rotated, revealing a cave-like entrance. Ophiyra couldn’t believe her eyes. There really was a secret passage in her own damn palace that no one told her about. She didn’t have much time to dwell on it, however, and followed Dawn down. Unsurprisingly, it was dark. Dawn lit up a lantern as the door closed.

As they navigated the dank cave, Ophiyra couldn’t help but feel like it was too quiet. “So, Dawn, you said your name was? Fascinating name, that.” “Ha, yeah, picked it out myself, you could say. Long story.” “Oh, that’s fair. So, how’d you end up owing Commander Maren like this?” There was a slightly awkward pause. “Yeah, that’s another long story. Might be a better conversation for when we’re on the ship. In the meantime—” Dawn pressed an indent, causing what seemed like a wooden rack to shift to the side. After she and Ophiyra were both safely on the other side, she pushed another indent, causing what turned out to be a keg rack to move back into place.

Ophiyra noticed that they were in what seemed like another cave. “So where are we, exactly?” “Abandoned cellar, actually. Feeds right into the port. Should be easy enough to get to the Star without getting spotted.”

Ophiyra followed Dawn out of the cellar. It was so dark that she could only tell the difference by the rain and wind. Dawn guided her along until they reached the port, and Dawn’s ship. Ophiyra was surprised to see that the ship was much smaller than standard airships. She wasn’t sure it was even capable of flying. All the same, she climbed aboard. Dawn went to what looked like a microphone built into the wall, with a button below it. She pressed the button as she spoke into the receiver. “Attention all hands, it’s time for take-off!”

As Dawn’s crew began preparing the ship, Ophiyra couldn’t help but wonder how this small ship was meant to fly. She went to ask Dawn, but it seemed that Dawn knew exactly what she was going to say. “I know, she doesn’t look sky-worthy. Come over here and see how it’s done.”

Ophiyra, at this point curious, followed Dawn to the bridge. It was surprisingly spacious. A Gnomish woman, who seemed to be the navigator, was at the helm. Behind her was a glowing crystal on a pole. Dawn had an almost arrogant smirk. “And now, the fun part!” She waved her hand, as it began to shimmer. Then, she lifted it. Ophiyra looked out the bridge’s windows in awe as The Emerald Star began to rise out of the water. Several large propellers shifted into place. They had crystals, which lit up. The ship was using magic to fly, rather than coal like a regular airship. She turned to Dawn. “You’re a mage!” Dawn winked at her. “Well spotted, Your Majesty.”

Ophiyra crossed her arms. “Okay, I’m impressed. But why the theatrics?” Dawn grinned. “I mean, it’s not often I get to show someone that. And Clem was too boring to appreciate it.” Ophiyra chuckled and pressed her fingers to her lips. “Fair enough I suppose. So, where to now?” Dawn thought for a moment. “Well, Brassington is safe enough for the moment. They’re not likely to be hit any time soon, and it’s a big enough city that we can lie low. So that’s our end-goal for now, but that’s quite a trip. I’m thinking we’ll need to make a few stops along the way. In the meantime, I can show you to the guest quarters. Not exactly what you’re used to, but it’s a place to rest at least.” Ophiyra bowed politely. “Thank you, Captain.”

The guest quarters were small, but cozy. There was a small nook where the bed fit in, next to a window. Apparently, Dawn had prepared for her guest. There were nightclothes on the bed, and everything was tidy. Ophiyra changed into the nightclothes, which were slightly baggy but otherwise comfortable, and got into the bed. Thoughts plagued her as she tried to sleep. Here she was, in a guest bed, on a smuggler’s ship, being smuggled out of her own home. How did the world come to this? All she could do at this point was hope that perhaps one day this would all be over and she could get back to her life. That day, however, seemed like a long way away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section ends the Sample Version of Rise of the Emerald Queen. Check out the social media pages for updates on the full release, scheduled for some time in 2021.
> 
> Twitter: @cmnuckols  
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